“Tread Lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.”
—
Requiescat, Oscar Wilde, 1881
Wilde wrote this poem for his sister Isola, who died of meningitis aged 9.
(via mirroir)
“Everyone’s gonna die. It’s a natural part of life. But if life has no purpose, you’re dead already.”
— Kiba, Wolf’s Rain
(via llollitta)
(via llollitta)
“Her life – that was the only chance she had – the short season between two silences.”
—
Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out
via franflow * vwvw (via frenchtwist)
“He made me love him without looking at me.”
— Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre (via larmoyante)
